His face was streaked with tears. His chest heaved as he tried to stifle a sob. I groaned inwardly. Self-conscious, he swiped his sweaty palm at his face and pulled himself together. He even managed a tiny smile. As I rested my head on a soft cushin, he stumbled across the room and settled down next to me. He put his arms around me, intending to share his sorrow, but I had to pity for him. It was kind of hard to sympathise with him. After all, I know him all too well. You could even say that I could see right through him; every thought, emotion, and intention glared like a bunch of neon lights on a dark, starless night. It was not exactly ESP either. I would not be so fortunate as to be bestowed such a lovely, oh-so-wonderful gift. It was not hard to get to know him; he trusted me with all his secrets, but I felt used, I felt like an object to him, inanimate - something to fall back on when no one else would spend the night with him, or sit with him at the dinner table or even watch a couple of old sci-fi flicks with him on boring Saturday nights.

His latest girlfriend had left him. She was wise enough to break the news to him via the telephone. Five simple words, usualy spoken incessantly in soap dramas on the idiot box had left him a blabbering, stuttering fool.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Clarissa had spoken apathetically over the telephone. My sharp ears caught every single word she said in her strangely unfeeling, indifferent tone, which did not change even when Terrence burst into tears, crying out, begging her not to leave him. The only other time I had seen him reduced to tears was when his wife refused to sign the divorce papers.

As I lay there on the couch, dog-weary of the continuous stream of complaints flowing out of his mouth, my mind drfted back to the day when I had first met and fell in love with my beloved (and now, slightly resented) Terrence.

It was a day just like any other. I was strolling around in a pet shop when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a distinguished-looking man walking towards me. He had a brilliant smile, one like a thousand sunbursts. It was that smile that drew my attention. As he approached me, I saw that confident, determined look on his face which, I would later discover, was the quintessence of his personality that got him right up to the top rung of the corporate ladder. With that look on his face, he got pretty much what he wanted most of the time. On that day, he wanted me. I could tell from his expression.
(more…)

Night fell softly upon the city of London. All was silent and peaceful. The only sounds to be heard were the squeaking of mice and the barking of dogs. Most of the city’s inhabitant’s were asleep, save those who were mourning the passing of a relative. One such person was a girl named Angela. Her mother had always called her ‘angel’. Always, until now.

The girl was crying.

Her mother lay in a ditch, her face forever frozen in a hideous death-grin, her eyes staring into the starry sky, never to close in peaceful death. She had been touched by the Black Death. The girl cried, for now she had no one to whisper her secrets to, no one to call her ‘angel’. Barely ten years old, she was already alone in the world. Finally, exhausted by her grief, she fell asleep beside the cold, still body of her mother.

Morning came, and Angela packed the few belongings she had. She kissed her mother tenderly on the cheek and made a vow. She vowed never to cry again, to be strong and to make her mother proud of her. She dragged her mother’s body to a secluded spot and buried her, saying a prayer before she left.

She wandered the streets of London, searching for employment, a way to earn a living. She was young and strong, willing to accept any task, no matter how menial. However, no one wanted Angela, a mere uneducated street urchin. Very soon, what little money she had, had been spent. She was reduced to stealing to survive. She grew emaciated as the days passed.
(more…)